


Desipientiarum

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6837151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren had been gone for months. The last time Hux had laid eyes on him had felt like it may well be the last--until an urgent, encrypted transmission come through. Hux stood on the bridge and ordered his crew to fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desipientiarum

**Author's Note:**

> In response to an anonymous prompt on tumblr for "masked, clothes on, desperate kylux smut."
> 
> And because I am unable to write anything without at least a little plot.

“Sir.”

Hux’s mind was elsewhere.

Countless parsecs away on a nameless planet in a system that couldn’t be located on any galactic map and cloaked by some measure of mystic protection from any passers-by.

Hux feared the worst.

“Sir.”

“ _What?_ ” He snapped as Mitaka again tried to get his attention.

“We’re receiving an encrypted transmission. It appears to be urgent.”

Confusion creased Hux’s brow for the briefest moment. Most intelligence was sent directly to him, not to the ship’s general correspondence systems. It was a matter of discretion and security on all sides.

“Send it here.” Hux gestured with his datapad in his hand, satisfied when Mitaka nodded and tapped a command into his console.

_Coming in under fire._

 

_***_

 

It was standard months ago.

Hux had dragged himself through the building storm over terrain that was growing increasingly unstable beneath his feet as he followed the glowing blip on the screen of his datapad. A group of Stormtroopers followed him close behind, ready to fend off any lingering Resistance fighters who had delusions of going down in a blaze of glory with Hux in their sights.

Finally, they found him.

Kylo Ren was barely conscious, freely bleeding from some unseen wound beneath his robes and almost unrecognizable for the gore and the melting snowfall across his face. Hux considered the traitor and the girl for a moment across the spreading chasm between them, deciding as the Troopers hefted Ren’s bulk off the ground to leave them to the mercy of the hunk of garbage that was hovering overhead. If the thing didn’t break apart before they broke the atmosphere then they deserved to live to fight another day—and as far as Hux was concerned in that moment as the ground shuddered again and he fought to keep upright on the icy terrain, they weren’t worth his trouble.

For all of his power, Ren had lost.

Now, in the back of the emergency shuttle, he’d gone into some kind of shock. His face had grown grey and pale. His breath came in concerningly short, rapid bursts. His eyes were wide and unseeing as the Troopers settled him down onto the floor.

“General, we should clear the planet’s atmosphere within next minute or so. Thrust is open.”

“Good. Set course directly for the Finalizer.”

The Trooper nodded and turned to go back to whatever duty he was meant to fulfill. He hesitated, “Sir, he—he doesn’t look very good. Should I get the medic back here?”

Hux considered it for a moment. “No, he’ll be fine. Just get us to my ship.” He took a knee and thrust two fingers up under Kylo’s jaw, feeling for his pulse in the absence of much else to do, his other hand applying pressure where he approximated the wound in Ren’s flank to be.

“Yes, sir.”

Kylo’s breathing began to slow. He was trembling from head to toe, though no more responsive. Hux leaned down close, cocking his head as if to listen to the pattern of Kylo’s breathing. “You backrocket dwarfnut,” he hissed. “Don’t you _dare_ do this.” He dug his fingertips in just a little harder, feeling the irregular flutter of Kylo’s heart beneath them. “I’ll find a way to bring you back so I can kill you myself. _They_ are not the end of _you_.” Kylo shuddered, the force of it shaking his whole body. “Do you hear me, Ren?”

An hour crawled by as the shuttle flew carefully under any nearby radar, activating and deactivating its jammers as needed so as to not draw too much attention as they navigated toward their rendezvous point with the Finalizer.

“HX-3283.”

The Trooper who had ventured toward the back of the shuttle to check some alarm or another that had gone off froze mid-action, hands hovering over a switchbox. “Sir?” she asked hesitantly.

“Send a transmission to the Finalizer. Ensure that the sickbay has a bacta tank ready.”

She nodded, flipping whatever switches she’d planned to and closing the door of the box with a loud metallic _click_! “Of course, sir, right away.”

Finally back on his ship, Hux felt back in his element. He issued orders and demanded reports as coolly as if Starkiller base has not just been destroyed and a sizeable number of his troops killed. He was _the General_. Everyone else aboard was looking to him for their next move.

“Get Kylo Ren to the sickbay immediately.” It wasn’t even a necessary order. As he stepped off the shuttle there were already medics rushing toward it with a grav-stretcher between them. Four sets of standard-issue shoes pounded up the ramp onto the shuttle. It would likely take all four of them to maneuver Ren’s dead weight onto the stretcher. Hux stood with his feet squared and his fingers curled into tight fists, nails digging sharply into his palms as he surveyed the organized chaos of emergency shuttles and TIE fighters landing and taking off around him. It took a moment before he realized someone was speaking to him.

“General?”

Hux took a moment to focus on the droid that seemed to be nervously shifting from one foot to the other in front of him. “What?”

“Do you require any medical assistance?”

“No.”

Hux followed a pace behind the grav-stretcher when it emerged. He was almost started when Lieutenant Mitaka appeared practically out of thin air at his elbow. He read off numbers, reporting their official losses and asking Hux’s approval for reallocations, rotations, and acquisitions that would allow the Order to begin again. As they neared the sickbay, Hux put up a hand to stop Mitaka.

“I will be on the bridge within the hour. We are setting a course to deliver Kylo Ren to Leader Snoke.”

“We don’t currently have coordinates to set—“

“I know where we are headed. I want only essential personnel on duty when I arrive.”

Mitaka nodded and turned on his heel, setting off at a steady pace to fulfill his duties. The medics were already peeling away Ren’s blood soaked robes. A particularly petite man was desperately trying to yank his boots off of his likely swollen feet where they hung over the end of the repulsorlift stretcher he’d been transferred to.

One of the medics approached Hux, who spoke before the former had a chance. “Just get him stabilized. I cannot deliver him to his master in this condition.”

Hux supervised as the medics finally stripped Ren bare and quickly evaluated the damage, running scanners over his body, projections of the damage under his skin appearing on the holoscreens on the opposite side of the room as someone fitted an oxygen mask carefully over his face. The anti-gravity switch was flipped and the stretcher rose, easing the effort it would require to load Ren into the bacta tank.

“He’ll need to be in there for several hours at the very least.”

“Whatever is necessary. I want to be informed immediately when he’s out.”

“Sir, I—I don’t mean to step my bounds but…”

“Out with it.”

“Kylo Ren is… notoriously unpredictable.”

“And?”

“If he—if he becomes _violent_ when we wake him—“

“You have Tranqarest in stock, yes?” The medic nodded. “Use it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hux watched as Ren was dropped rather inelegantly into the bacta tank, his mass making the fluid level within rise significantly. His limbs bobbed gently, the bacta absorbing the majority of the movement, and his hair swirled around his face in an inky cloud. His injuries were more horrific now that he was disrobed—a large blaster wound in his side continued to weep, making the clear bacta go slightly cloudy with pinkish blood and lymph, the slash that trailed down across his face to his shoulder was angry red and dangerously blackened in places.

“It’s startling, really.”

“Excuse me?”

The medic jerked his chin toward Ren and paused from entering notes into his datapad, _KYLO REN_ in large letters at the top of the file. “I’ve never seen him without the mask. I’m not sure anyone has, really.” The medic continued tapping out shorthand on the datapad, something Hux was sure the rest of the staff could understand at a glance but he would need to sit and decipher. “He’s so… _young._ ”

“You were expecting someone more mature?” Hux huffed an amused breath at the notion.

The medic suppressed his own smirk, “I was expecting someone more like Emperor Palpatine.” The medic touched his own face. “The holos—“

Hux put a hand up to stop him, “I understand what you mean.” He lingered a moment longer, “Alert me when he is awake.”

It would be several hours before Hux received that alert. There was little to do on the bridge, his crew having their tasks well in hand, which left Hux with a dilemma—should he go immediately to the sickbay or wait until the official end of his shift? Would going make him look over eager?

The balance of aloof indifference and raw dislike that the pair of them maintained had been carefully cultivated over the period since Snoke had ordered Kylo Ren onto Hux’s ship with the expectation that work side-by-side if not entirely together. Hux couldn’t say that he particularly _liked_ Ren—especially so considering his behavior and _failure_ over the last several days—but he had become convenient and familiar.

And a brilliant fuck.

And Hux was very much going to keep to the threat he’d issued back on the emergency shuttle.

If Ren died, Hux would bring him back and kill Ren himself in retaliation.

Hux waited until the official end of his shift, though shift assignments seemed to have gone completely out the viewport considering that a large chunk of the crew that had made landing on Starkiller with him was still unaccounted for, either dead or stranded on an emergency shuttle somewhere near the wreckage.

Kylo Ren was astonishingly docile laying in the sickbay bed amongst the beeping equipment and under less than flattering light.

“Is he sedated?”

The medtech attending him frowned and shook his head, “Not at all. And our scans don’t indicate any kind of neural damage or general shock. He was certainly in shock _before_ , but not now.”

Ren continued to stare up at the ceiling. His tongue slipped out between hips lips and ran across them. His fingers traced back and forth over the texture of the regulation sickbay blanket. He looked more then like he might be deep in thought. Meditating, perhaps.

“The... _battle wounds_. They’re not healed.”

The medtech frowned even more deeply. “It took much longer to stabilize him than we anticipated. Had to pull him out of the tank a few times. We were worried about using too much sedation. He kept coming out of the stock stuff and no one wanted to risk Tranqarest in the tank—too powerful.” The tech swept his hand up his own flank, indicating the corresponding injury on Ren’s body. “There was much more internal damage than we initially thought. A bit like someone had kicked him repeatedly. He’s lucky it was just heavy bleeding and not a complete rupture.”

Ren promptly leaned over the side of the bed ad emptied his gut into the bucket that a rather harassed-looking droid whizzed over to hold out for him. The room filled with the sickly-sweet smell of the bacta that had surely filled his stomach. The medtech made a passing comment that he’d likely be coughing it up for a few days, not to be surprised if he sounded less than stellar. Hux grimaced and stepped into the room when the retching had subsided, reminded why he wasn’t fond of days when syrupy canned fruit was served in the mess.

Hux stood at the foot of the bed while Ren flopped himself back onto the narrow mattress properly and the droid dismissed itself. They regarded each other in tense silence for several beats, both refusing to look away first.

“Sit. Your looming isn’t helping.” His voice was low and raw.

“The medical staff is rather taken by you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Your veil of mystery has been ripped aside most violently.” Ren rolled his eyes—a sure sign that he must be well on his way to recovery. “Supreme Leader has requested your deliverance. Evidently there is always room for additional training.” Ren stared blankly over Hux’s shoulder when he finally did move to sit, pushing a wheeled stool closer to the bedside.

Hux inched closer to the bed. He wished his greatcoat had not been left behind on Starkiller. The shielding it would provide draped around his shoulders against prying eyes as he touched his fingertips against Kylo’s on top of the rough-spun blanket would have been nice. Kylo stretched his fingers toward Hux’s and then pulled them away. He pushed the blanket off of himself, kicking his feet out to knock it onto the floor, and hauled his body further up onto the bed so he might sit properly.

Ren managed to be a spectacle whether he was draped in heavy black robes and wearing his helmet or very nearly bared. His hair shined wet and inky with residual bacta, both on his head and body. Hux glanced over the thick bandages, the scent of the bacta pads wafting up as Kylo shifted in the bed.

Kylo stared straight ahead, his brow creased severely and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout that might have been ridiculous if he weren’t radiating quiet, controlled anger—were his face not bisected by an ugly, half cauterized slash. “It changed _nothing._ ” His voice remained husky and strained, perhaps more so.

“What changed nothing?” From Hux’s perspective, quite a bit had changed.

“Killing him.” Ren clenched his jaw and took a sharp breath through his nose that ended in a stuttering cough. “Killing Solo.”

“Who is Solo?”

Ren’s lip curled up in a sneer. He ran both hands through his hair, pushing it back and making the oily shine of the bacta more pronounced. “I was. My father was too.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “And now he’s dead by my hand and it _changed nothing_.”

Hux found himself lost. Ren’s father? He’d had an image, however unrealistic, of Kylo springing forth fully formed and terrifying from the nebulous remnants of some dead star—the carbon particles coming together by the will of the Force to _be_. And now Ren had killed the father Hux had never considered him having and it was supposed to have changed… something. What?

“Ren, I don’t understand.”

Kylo finally turned his gaze fully on Hux, his eyes bright and his mouth softening. “You don’t need to, General.” He paused, reaching up and gingerly fingering the edges of the wound across the bridge of his nose. “For the first time in my wretched life _I_ understand.” He set his jaw and licked his lips. “And that’s all that matters.”

Standard days later, Kylo Ren was sweeping through the corridors of the Finalizer in robes that reminded Hux of the babbling old mystics, those who’d believed staunchly in both the Light and the Dark, that he’d once interrogated as a Brigadier—so long ago in his memory but really only a few standard years. Kylo seemed cloaked in shadow as his long cape billowed behind him and the wide hood concealed the top half of his face, a wraith briefly haunting the destroyer before being called back to the hell it came from.

Ren’s uncharacteristic cooperation in the days preceding only added to threatening aura he presented now. He’d followed orders and remained in the sickbay, allowed the medtechs to clean and dress his wounds. He’d accepted sustenance when it was expected of him. He’d endured several more hours in the bacta tank and the sickness that followed without complaint—leaving him looking very nearly like himself once again.

He’d sat on his bed in quiet contemplation, moving in and out of the meditative space in his mind where it seemed no physical person could reach him.

When they had reached the edge of the system that Snoke’s stronghold was concealed in, Kylo didn’t need to be told. He’d already returned to his own rooms to dress. Hux found him there, his door open as if in anticipation of Hux’s arrival, standing like a statue over some twisted relic.

Hux gripped the saber hilt in his hand, kept in his private quarters, locked away for safe keeping. Kylo had not asked for it back when Hux told him he had it, but the general was sure he would need it now. Kylo let out a slow breath, practically folding in on himself as he did, and turned to face Hux.

Hux glanced down at the saber in his hands, holding it out.

“Thank you.” Kylo moved to clip it to his belt, his cloak thrown back over his shoulder and his face not yet concealed.

“Your shuttle is waiting.”

“I know.” Whether it was a trick of the lighting or the mood that made him think it, Hux wasn’t sure, but Kylo’s eyes seemed to have an odd amber glow. They stood in silence for long seconds.

Hux settled his hands behind his back. “Careful, Ren.”

Kylo surged forward, hands groping at Hux’s collar and cupping the back of his head while he kissed him. When he pulled away, he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. His expression hardened.

“I will send word when I am prepared to return.”

 

***

 

“Sir,” Mitaka squinted at the display in front of him suspiciously. “This signal—I think… I think it’s Kylo Ren’s command shuttle.”

“I want the hangar open. Now.”

“General,” another of the crew stood in front of her console, a concerned expression on her face. “Are we sure Kylo Ren is aboard? The shuttle appears to be under fire by a squadron of our own.”

What in pfassking hell did Ren get himself into?

“It’s Ren.” Hux’s heart hammered in his chest. He curled his fingers into fists at his side and stepped closer to the viewport. If not for the gloves he might have drawn blood. “Fire on the pursuers when ready.”

“Sir, they _are_ First Order pilots.”

Hux did not honor the comment with so much as a glance over his shoulder. “Fire.”

The ships were still a little ways off, even the Finalizer’s targeting systems weren’t infallible—especially against what appeared to be top-notch TIE fighter pilots. They slipped left and right, keeping Ren’s shuttle in their sights. A transmission crackled through as the squadron leader found the Finalizer’s comm frequency.

_This is Zeta Squadron leader to Finalizer—Repeat, Zeta Squad to Finalizer!_

Hux clenched his jaw, waiting.

_Finalizer! We are in pursuit—_

The transmission cut out as a blast from Ren’s shuttle took the TIE out. Almost immediately, an urgent communication alert whooped and beeped on the console in front of Hux. He swiped at the interface, an apprehensive feeling in the pit of his gut as the holo flickered to life, the shuttle and the TIEs after it zooming by past the viewport disrupting the ghostlike image.

It was Ren restored, though not quite as Hux remembered. As he spoke, it was clear there was no longer a vocal modulator within his helmet, simply some kind of projector for volume and clarity. The mask looked similar to what he’d worn previously, the differences subtle—the shape of the vents to either side of the solid, matte-black void where a mouth would be; the chrome details around the eyes much more angular and menacing; the curve of the chin sharper.

“General.”

“Kylo Ren. It would appear you’ve gotten yourself into a spot of trouble. You expect me to get you out of it?”

“Would you not assist your fellow commander?”

“What have you done, Ren?”

“What was necessary. I’d hoped to reboard the Finalizer without trouble. ”

“Are your pursuers friend or foe, Ren?” Hux put a hand up, a signal to halt in their firing upon the TIE squadron. “Ren?”

“Foe. They are…” It was evident that Ren’s attention was split between controlling his craft and responding to Hux. “They are disloyal.”

“So by taking them out, we will not be killing our own?”

Ren paused as if considering his response carefully. “No, General. Do I have clearance to board?”

Hux pursed his lips, watching as the TIE squadron fired on Kylo Ren’s command shuttle once again. “Yes.” He turned back to the bridge, looking pointedly at the young colonel with her finger hovering over a button on her console. “Fire.”

A bolt of light, a TIE breaking apart with the impact.

It was hardly a skirmish. Then much closer in range, even their quick maneuvering could not preserve the fighters, it ended quickly with Ren skidding violently into the hangar. Hux waited a beat, confirming that the entire squadron had been eliminated before he left his post, desperation bubbling up the back of his throat like bile.

“General! Sir! Please—something isn’t right. Those were First Order pilots—we haven’t received so much as a transmission from Kylo Ren in months—“

Hux turned on his heel, agitation rising. “Lieutenant, how _dare_ you question my methods?”

“I—“

“Go back to your post, Mitaka.” Hux took a breath, clenching his fists again, fighting for control. “Before you have no post to return to.”

Mitaka hesitated, his resolve wavering. “Yes, sir.”

The flight crews and pilots in the hangar had gone utterly quiet. It even seemed that the noise of their equipment had been somehow muted as Hux strode across the textured, durasteel floor. There were technicians frantically and efficiently tending to an electrical fire that taken hold of the hull of shuttle.

“Where is Ren?” The technicians looked up briefly as the ramp out of the back of the shuttle lowered.

Dramatic. As always.

Hux moved up the ramp, the stench of smoldering wires and hot plasma stronger inside the craft. He raised a hand to his face, holding his fingers delicately under his nose, sickened by it. Kylo was sitting in the pilot’s seat, still, unmoving.

“Hux.”

“What have you done?”

Kylo was a nebulous mass under his cloak in the powered-down cockpit. His shoulders shook in silent laughter. “Changed everything.” His voice came out in a thick croak, caught between joy and devastation. “And now—“

“Hush! We cannot discuss this here.” Hux retreated at a hasty pace back through the shuttle and down the ramp, trusting that Ren would follow. Sure enough, his heavy footfalls rang out, matching Hux’s.

The electric smell didn’t dissipate as they left the hangar and rode up in the lift, it hung in a cloud around Ren, the air crackling with the energy the scent implied. Kylo followed him through the corridors of the officers’ quarters, headed for the safety and seclusion of Hux’s room.

“Wait.”

“Ren—“

“No, just listen.” Kylo crowded him into a corner. Though they weren’t so different in height, his presence in mask and cloak and _mass_ made Hux feel like he might be crushed under heel. Kylo moved to thumb at the release on either side of his mask.

“Don’t.” Hux wasn’t sure he wanted to see what was beneath—what exactly Ren had changed.

This close, it was obvious that Ren was covered in a thin layer of fine dust—ash? His heavy head fell onto Hux’s shoulder leaving the general to stiffen in surprise and confusion. With his face buried in the darkness of Kylo’s hood, the electrical stench softened into something that reminded Hux of the rain on Arkanis. Hux fisted his hands in the front of the cloak. “Ren?”

He pressed closer, leaving no space between them, lifting his head and pressing the cold metal of his mask to Hux’s cheek. “They’re going to come for me. Those that are left.”

“Who?”

“The Knights. They know what I’ve done.”

“And are you not their master?”

“They have no master they do not willingly follow. They will not follow one who has betrayed their trust.”

“How—“

“They would not cooperate. They could not remain alive. It did not stop them from alerting those most loyal in the Order before I completed my task.”

“The TIE fighters—“ Hux laid a hand on either side of Kylo’s mask, staring into the hollow spaces that hid Ren’s eyes. His thumb moved over something slick. He lifted his hand and observed the reddish smear on his fingers. “Ren.”

Heat flared in Hux’s belly and licked up his spine. He couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of the flush that spread over his cheeks.

“Ren.”

Hux drew him forward, his mouth crashing against the unforgiving surface of the mask. Grit that Hux chose not to imagine the composition of scratched across the delicate skin of his lips, the wet smear he’d disturbed rubbing across his cheek.

“Ren.”

Kylo pressed their bodies together, long, strong arms wrapping around Hux and trapping him against the solid wall of chest. His hands groped roughly at Hux’s flank and shoulder.

“Hux, I—“

“Don’t—just—“

Hux’s body responded with alarming urgency. He continued to mouth against the mask, his wish to curl his fists into Ren’s hair at war with his apprehension at the prospect of the mask coming off.

“ _Stars_ , Ren.”

“No, not Ren anymore.” Kylo rolled his body against Hux, his own body’s intent more than clear. “I don’t know what I am. Everything’s changed.”

Hux’s head filled with sound and color—flashes of crackling red—rattling breath—the shock of impact and the burn of pure, uncontained energy. Hux sucked in breath and gripped at the mask harder, his nails bending back inside his gloves as he did.

"L-leader Sn-"

"Don't."

Ren—Kylo—the looming, encompassing _being_ standing over him and holding him tight—was mumbling nearly incoherently into the curve of Hux’s neck and shoulder as they moved against each other, heedless of their surroundings and the eminent threat of whatever was pursuing him in retaliation.

The restriction and texture of Hux’s underclothes against his unbidden arousal became quickly too much, almost painful as he moved against the hard thigh thrust between his legs.

Kylo moved more harshly, his breath coming in oddly muffled bursts through the mask, making Hux’s shoulders and skull bang back into the bulkhead behind him. He hurtled toward climax with a violent shudder, his tight embrace stealing Hux’s breath away. Heart pounding in his ears, Hux ground himself down and back, over and over, grappling to find purchase against Kylo’s broad, heaving back. He came with an undignified shout, body frozen with tension.

Hux panted, slowly coming back to himself, the tremor in his limbs subsiding.

“The Knights—“

“Let them try—let them. We’ll be ready.”

Hux pressed his lips once again to the mask before pressing the release himself. There was a hiss of air and a click. He shoved the hood of Ren’s cloak back and yanked off the helmet.

Kylo’s eyes glowed a terrifying amber and red, his expression hard and desperate, his lips bloodied.

“We’ll be ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can submit a request/prompt [right here on tumblr.](http://onheil-ferguson.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
